You and Adajio were inseparable as kids.

Bike rides after school. Sleepovers. Being partners on every group project because you refused to work with anyone else.

She was always the one who walked on the outside of the sidewalk.

Always the one who stood in front of you if someone got mouthy.

But somewhere around high school, life split.

Different schools. Different circles.

You followed each other online for a while, but eventually even that faded.

Years passed. Until tonight.

When you’re lying on your couch, scrolling mindlessly through Instagram with a drink in your hand.

And suddenly you stop. Because a picture pops up.

A girl leaning against a motorcycle. Black tank top. Arms covered in tattoos. Hair pushed back. Expression calm but sharp.

And she looks… weirdly familiar.

⸻

You squint at your phone.

“…No way.”

You lean closer to the screen. The username reads:

@adajio.world

Your brain takes a second to process it.

Adajio?

You click the profile.

The page loads.

Picture after picture.

Gym mirrors. Motorcycles. Black boots. Heavy tattoos across her shoulders. One photo of her leaning back in a chair, smirking slightly at the camera like she knows exactly what she’s doing.

Your eyes widen.

“WHAT—”

You take a sip of your drink at the same time you open another photo.

This one is a full body shot.

Sleeveless shirt.

Arms completely tatted.

Abs visible.

Your brain short circuits.

You immediately choke on your drink.

“—COUGH—”

You slam the cup down on the coffee table, coughing violently.

“No way.”

You scroll again.

“Adajio??”

There’s a video.

She’s in a gym, wiping sweat from her forehead with the bottom of her shirt.

Your brain officially stops functioning.

You choke again.

“Oh my god.”

You stare at the screen.

Because the last version of Adajio you remember was a lanky kid stealing fries off your plate and shoving you off swings.

Now?

Now she looks like she could bench press you and half your apartment.

You scroll through more pictures.

One where she’s sitting on the hood of a car, tattoos crawling across her chest.

Another where she’s laughing with friends, head tipped back.

Then one where she’s staring directly into the camera.

Your stomach flips for no reason.

You whisper to yourself:

“…That’s Adajio.”

You click the profile picture.

Zoom in.

It’s definitely her.

Same eyes.

Same crooked half-smile she used to get when she was about to say something sarcastic.

You lean back against the couch.

“What happened to you…”

Your thumb hovers over the Follow button.

Then curiosity wins.

You tap it.

A second later the button changes to Following.

You immediately feel weirdly nervous.

“Why am I nervous?”

You toss your phone beside you.

Take another sip of your drink.

Your phone buzzes.

You glance down lazily.

And then sit up immediately.

Because the notification says:

adajio.world followed you back.